Maybe Jericho should introduce him to one of his boots.
Not that he had a claim on Em. Damn it. He kept coming back to that, and it was starting to bother him. It was easy to say ‘no big deal, we’ll take things slow’ when there was no competition. But now that the ex was back, that changed everything. Especially when Braden was all that Jericho was not. He had a big time job, a traditional haircut, a clean shaven face, shirts that buttoned down, and probably a savings or retirement plan. Jericho had his bike…and that was about it. He was probably the wrong kind of guy for Emily anyhow.
But he still wanted her. Pretty fucking bad, now that he thought about it.
So he slipped his wrench into one of the loops in his belt and began to head down the stairs. There were two staircases in Emily’s house, and the main one was creaky and led to the front of the kitchen. On a whim, he went to the back staircase and headed down one of the side halls, knowing perfectly well that he was going to come around to the back of the kitchen, where he could hear Emily’s voice as she talked to Braden.
“You still make those éclairs the way I like them?” Braden was asking, his voice casual and almost flirty.
“I haven’t made éclairs since you left,” Emily said in a flat voice. “Too much mess and far too much trouble. Most people are happy with cookies and whatever I make for them.”
“You’d make them for me if I asked, though, wouldn’t you?” His tone got persuasive, and Jericho resisted the urge to put a fist through the wall – or through Braden’s face.
“No,” said Emily flatly. “But you’re welcome to use my kitchen to make them yourself. As many times as I’ve made them for you, you should know how they go.”
Jericho grinned.
“I bet you bake for that weird guy with the tattoos, huh? What’s his favorite?”
“It’s none of your business, Braden—“
“Can I help it if I don’t like seeing my beautiful wife all chummy with another guy when I come to visit her? When I’ve been missing her?”
“First of all, I’m not your wife anymore. And second, if you missed me so much, how come you’ve never come when I needed you? For that matter, how come you showed up with a camera crew even after I told you not to?” Her hands slammed on the counter with a soft thud, and Jericho guessed she was baking something; Emily liked to have her hands in dough when she was frustrated.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t miss you,” Braden told her in a softer voice, and Jericho noticed he sidestepped all the questions Emily had lobbed at him. “And that doesn’t mean that I don’t worry when I see you slumming.”
So sweet, pretty Emily was slumming by being with him? He’d take that. It wasn’t like he’d never heard that sort of thing before.
“I’m not slumming, you dick,” Emily said. “And I’m not with him. We’re just…friends.”
Jericho frowned, not liking the turn the conversation took. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and continued to eavesdrop.
“That hug he gave you was pretty friendly.” Braden’s voice was laden with sarcasm. “Can we be friends like that again?”
“Very funny,” she said, pounding more dough. “It’s none of your business what my relationship with Jericho is, but we’re just casual. No one’s staking claims to anyone else.”
“Good,” said Braden. “Because I don’t know if I told you this, but I miss you.”
The slapping of dough stopped. “That’s twice you’ve said that.”
“I mean it. I do miss you. And I was wondering if you and I could try again.”
Silence. Jericho’s fists tightened.
“I don’t know if I want to try again,” Emily admitted after a long, long moment. “I don’t know that I can depend on you ever again. And goddamn it, Braden, you can’t just waltz back in here after two years and try and stake your claim because someone else is marking your territory. I’m not a fire hydrant and I won’t let you piss on me again.”
Jericho’s lips twitched at that.
“Just think about it, okay?” Braden asked. “All I want is—“
Enough of this wheedling bullshit. Jericho stepped out of the hall, letting his boots drag on the wooden floors as he sauntered into the kitchen. Both Emily and Braden got quiet as he entered the room, and he noticed there was a flush high on Emily’s cheeks. He didn’t know if she was upset or embarrassed.
“Fixed your leak,” he drawled, patting his wrench. “Just needed some tightening.”